


Future Results are not a Predictor of Past Performance

by Shaeydyrllah



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: All the angst first, Carlos is just a bit of an idiot about it, Cecil is too persistent to deny, Desert Bluffs, Do-Over, Eldritch Abominations, Eventual Happy Ending, Family, Flashbacks, Fluff and Angst, I mean both of them are in love from the very beginning, I'm literally incapable of writing sad endings, Inhuman Cecil, Kevin is Inhuman, Librarians, M/M, Non-Consensual Touching, Past Abuse, Post-Episode: e049 Old Oak Doors Part B, Romance, Science, So are your own feelings, Stalking, The Desert Otherworld, Time Travel, Typical Night Vale Weirdness, Watch the author bluff about science, kind of slow burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-27
Updated: 2019-12-18
Packaged: 2021-02-26 21:33:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21575722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shaeydyrllah/pseuds/Shaeydyrllah
Summary: Carlos likes to open doors, Kevin likes to close them.Carlos finds a door, one which is definitely not old nor made of oak; the door was more of a soft mahogany with a crisp varnished sheen.The door returns him to a point in time before he ever ventured into Night Vale.Aided with future knowledge he is determined to stop Strex before they have a chance to harm Night Vale.The only problem is, telling someone about his endeavor would compromise the integrity of the experiment and introduce more confounding variables. Not to mention time travel's on-again, off-again legality.Having a persistent news reporter and radio host report on your every action complicates matters; as does being in love with said reporter who doesn't even remember you.
Relationships: Carlos/Cecil Palmer, Carlos/Kevin (One Sided)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 37





	1. Congratulations, you've won a new reality!

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, spoilers for Old Oak doors, spoilers also for WTNV book 'It Devours'. Kevin is going to be creepy af in this, but that's normal I guess. Later descriptions of eldritch abominations, may be gorey.
> 
> Some events aren't shown sequentially and will be shown through flashbacks
> 
> Honestly, Carlos is making things harder for himself than he needs to.
> 
> My first WTNV fanfic, its so weird coming up with descriptions of bizarre things that just happen casually in the background. I'm not sure how well I'll be able to mimic Carlos and Cecil's characters but I'll try my best.
> 
> Time travel and do-over has to be my absolute favourite trope, I wish there was more of it in the world, for every fandom really. Here we go...

_I have been thinking about the self. How the person I am today is different from who I was yesterday and who I will be tomorrow. How there is an infinite number of possible selves, a number that increases and decreases at a roughly equal rate in relation to the decisions I make, that we all make. I cannot know who I will be tomorrow; I can make an educated guess, scientifically speaking: a hypothesis if you will. I of all people would best be able to predict my reactions to certain events and account for the variance in my responses to each situation. And yet I cannot control for a multitude of variables, interlinked with the consequences of other's actions in my immediate sphere._

_Just as I cannot know my future self, as my perception of them changes daily. I also cannot know my past self, self-reflection based on future experiences ensures that my past is perhaps as unstable as my future. This is something I have come to terms with, the unintelligibility of the self._

_I cannot determine who my best possible self is. I cannot predict the best way to react to each challenge, even if I follow a detailed blueprint. Maybe even by trying to be this idealised self, I am doing irreparable harm in some unseen way._

_It feels like I am being duplicitous. I am hardly my best self through some innate virtue. I have a cheat sheet._

~0~

_“He grinned, and everything about him was perfect, and I fell in love instantly.”_

Carlos attempted to suppress the small involuntary jerk of his arm. Wide eyes fixed upon the car’s modest radio system, almost fearful in their regard. He barely acknowledged the sounds of protest from the back of the vehicle as he narrowly avoided the pothole filled with tiny green mice.

“Are you okay?” Andrew O’Connor, the biologist, and Carlos’s friend of five years made a short abortive move to pat his arm before thinking better of it. His hand hovered awkwardly before withdrawing and made a motion to adjust his seat.

Carlos fixed his eyes determinedly on the road ahead, conscious of the way that every other bump in the road tapped out a bizarre Morse code message as the moment of elevation caused the car to slam back down in a repeated pattern. **CERULEAN, CERULEAN.** Carlos had given up trying to derive any meaning from the topography of the road after the last lapse in his concentration almost sent them careening towards a frighteningly ordinary lamp post.

“I’m fine.” He managed to murmur, avoiding Andrew’s attempts to make eye contact through the rearview mirror.

TA Jennifer Markus started to giggle, the hyperactive blonde nudged Dr Ditch who let out an obnoxious sigh. “As fascinating as Dr Ramirez’s love life is, we have far more pressing matters to attend to.” Whilst there was nothing inherently malicious about his choice of words they were spoken in a spiteful tone of voice that grated on Carlos's nerves. It made him regret showing that moment of weakness back at the University of What It Is that lead to Ditch being assigned as their team leader. The graceful movement of a single silver eyebrow made Carlos feel like a scolded child. Once again, he reminded himself to pay attention to the road that may or may not be attempting to kill them.

As the Voice of Night Vale’s warm dulcet tones continued to flood the car, Carlos made the executive decision to switch off the radio. For the sake of his own sanity, of course. The radio didn’t seem to like being manhandled, it emitted loud sobbing cries as Carlos twisted the volume down to mute it.

“This town is utterly insane,” gripped Ditch.

“Isn’t it?” Markus sighed, decidedly more optimistic than her companion in the back seat.

Hearing Cecil’s voice was like experiencing the searing pain of a wound being reopened whilst luxuriating in a steamy bubble bath. It was too much too soon. Carlos knew he would adjust, with time. There was always time.

The desert creek was aptly named; a long dried up crevasse that may have once housed water ran the length of the tired-looking neighbourhood. It wasn’t just the building infrastructure that was tired with flaking paint and rusted scaffolding holding together crooked houses, the wind rattled through the buildings and the walls seemed to ripple and flex, heaving out a great yawn.

The sun beat down on them mercilessly as they all got out of the car; the leather of the steering wheel had been beginning to burn Carlos’s hands.

They had reached The House That Doesn’t Exist.

Carlos started to nervously play with the hairband he kept around his wrist, it was important to tie your hair up when you do experiments, when walking in a windy climate and when running from Eldritch Abominations. The soft snap of the elastic against his wrist was comforting and distracted his hands from trembling as badly as they might have.

He held himself back as the other scientists began to investigate the exterior of The House That Doesn’t Exist. Carlos noted multiple pairs of eyes on them from the neighbours, curious about the newcomers to their little town. Ditch wandered the perimeter of the House attempting to touch walls that were both there and not there, consisting of no mass or physical properties. He had thought that the walls were painted a dull cream colour, likely once a coat of brilliant white paint. Now, he swore they were a deep shade of indigo.

Markus’s fist hovered over the canary coloured door; she looked between the House and a reluctant Carlos, who observed them all silently. Andrew seemed to be attempting to pry TA Markus away from the door, shaking his head rapidly and giving it wary looks.

“Maybe we should break the window,” Markus exclaimed, excitedly.

“Someone probably lives there; we can’t just damage their house.” Andrew chided. “What do you think, Carlos?”

Carlos kept his eyes focused on the House as if it were a cornered animal or an antique about to strike at any moment. “I think we should investigate the exterior thoroughly before proceeding. We don’t know how dangerous it could be.” His actions were completely rational, a scientist first makes an observation from which they create a hypothesis to test. They were not barbarians rushing headfirst into the unknown; they were scientists, travelling at a more sedate and inquisitive pace.

“Well, get over here!” Ditch snapped, “You can’t observe from over there.” He waved a hand derisively in Carlos’s direction before turning back to caress the walls of the House. Ditch still seemed to be sore over the town meeting mishap.

“What crawled up his ass?” Markus mocked. To which Andrew mouthed the words ‘Jenifer, no!’ The exclamation mark was implied from the intensity of the facial expression accompanying his mouthing.

With a heavy sigh, Carlos approached. The House That Doesn’t exist didn’t exactly give off a threatening vibe but there was an odd blankness which was somehow unnerving; it was like walking down the stairs in the dark and you think there is another step left before you reach the bottom, your foot reaches out and makes contact with a level surface that it tries to move through to no avail.

Under no circumstances would he enter that House, Carlos affirmed silently. Not even for science. No good would come of it.

“Maybe we should get the word out about this House,” Andrew commented, thoughtfully. “Given that the newspaper I bought this morning was just an enormous crossword about possums the most expedient way to spread the message would be, well...” he hesitated, giving Carlos a sheepish look, “Over the radio.”

Carlos started to twist the hairband between his fingers, looping it around alternating fingers and pulling the elastic tight. Outwardly to the rest of the team, he seemed calm. “That is indeed a logical solution.”

Markus smirked at him from her position perched on a low garden wall, surrounded by empty plant pots. “Uh huh. Maybe you should call that radio host, I'm sure he'd be willing to help _you_.” Her eyes glittered with amusement as she directed her reply to Carlos.

“Well, you can get on with that Markus. You’re the assistant.” Ditch joined the conversation reluctantly. He pointedly ignored the way she scowled at him. With a huff she planted her feet back down on the ground and walked a few paces away from the house to make her call in the relative privacy, accounting for the Sheriff’s Secret Police mandatory phone tapping.

~0~0~

Carlos was relieved to return to his lab, next to Big Rico’s. He let Andrew drive them back while his mind was consumed with images of empty deserts and amorphous faces. Ditch had split off from the rest of them to take a look at the abnormal seismic readings they had been picking up on. Whilst their leader was a psychologist and not an expert in regards to seismology he was determined to seek out the strange phenomena independently from the group. Carlos secretly thought that Ditch was far more concerned with bolstering his image in the eyes of the University than having a genuine thirst for knowledge. Markus was less secretive about her distaste for their leader and had taken to imitating his dramatic eyebrow raise and swishing her lab coat forcefully whenever his back was turned.

Mayor Winchell had been the one to present them with the key to the lab upon their arrival in Night Vale. All but Carlos had startled violently as Pamela Winchell’s booming voice called out to them from behind. She was hanging casually from a lamp post; her sandal-clad toes hooked unnaturally giving her the appearance of an overlarge bat dressed in orange denim.

Despite Mayor Winchell’s insistence that it was necessary for them to call a town meeting to explain their presence, Dr Ditch claimed he was too busy to talk to the locals. The word ‘locals’ was articulated like one may talk about a particularly unfortunate research paper with numerous scathing reviews.

The team had been surprised to find the lab already occupied by a tall translucent woman with dark curly hair. Andrew had turned a sickly shade of green while stuttering out hesitant questions. Ditch had announced that he wouldn’t allow trespassers in his lab, to which the women glowered and replied she didn’t want to work with someone who was ghostaphobic anyway.

Since then Ditch had been trying to convince them all that the women, ‘Mara’ as she called herself, was a hallucination brought on by their exhaustion and dehydration; and that ghosts were definitely not real. Carlos felt rather sorry for Mara for having to put up with such an unpleasant introduction to them. Markus seemed disappointed that Mara didn’t want to join them in investigating The House That Doesn’t Exist. Meanwhile, Mara kept insisting that she was definitely a scientist and if Ditch kept complaining she would report him to the Sheriff’s Secret Police for going over his allotted daily quota of denial by using it up on one person.

And then there was the disaster of the town meeting. Just thinking about it made Carlos want to boycott the lab and huddle under the too thin duvet in his one-room apartment, well, sometimes one room, on Sundays his room multiplied into two. At least he thought it did, maybe he should rerun the same tests as last time just to be sure.

He hoped by doing things differently, there would be a different outcome. Unfortunately, ignoring Cecil Gershwin Palmer was scientifically impossible.

~0~0~0~

Only Carlos, Markus and Andrew turned up for the town meeting down at City Hall. It seemed that the entirety of Night Vale had managed to congregate inside the building. Andrew gave Carlos a comforting smile as Carlos took to the stage; he fixed his eyes on the crimson curtains decorated with what seemed to be tessellated bananas. The crowd was so achingly colourful in contrast to the mundane monochrome business suit-clad outside world that Carlos’s eyes prickled and watered slightly. The overwhelming colour palette was definitely why Carlos’s eyes were watering, not the agonising familiarity and longing that flooded through him mercilessly.

The audience seemed captivated by his presence, a mixture of curiosity and hostility greeted him as he managed a shaky smile in return. Carlos’s eyes very deliberately did not stray to the left front aisle of seats.

“Greetings, Night Vale. I am Carlos, a visiting scientist.” His eyes flickered closer to the left, taking in the sight of tall winged figures who were absolutely not angels, they surrounded Old Woman Josie who bit into her corn muffin without taking her eyes off of him. “I am part of a team of dedicated scientists,” he gestured to Andrew and Markus who gave cautious waves to the audience, “Unfortunately our head scientist couldn’t be here today.” Carlos wasn’t really sure how he should excuse his boss or even if he wanted to. “He is busy. With science.” He tacked on. Carlos was greeted with solemn nods. It seemed that ‘science’ alone was a sufficient reason.

He was becoming painfully aware of how many times he had used the word ‘science’ so far in his speech. Carlos remembered what he was supposed to say. _We have come to study, just what is going on around here._ Those words no longer fitted, scientifically speaking it was not logical to lie as it would open you up to being picked apart by peer reviews and revealing anomalies.

Carlos decided to speak from the heart, or at the very least report the scientific truth of his objective motivations, it would be more accurate to say he was speaking from the brain. But then again all speech was a function of various brain networks such as the interactions between dorsal and ventral regions including Brocha's and Wernicke's areas. He would speak from his metaphorical heart. “Night Vale is a truly fascinating community, in fact, it is _by far_ the most scientifically interesting community in the U.S.” A wave of nostalgia hit him. “There is a multitude of phenomena to investigate, scientific mysteries to be solved or not solved. Science isn’t always about finding a solution, but learning and creating theories and models from the available data.” He continued, his voice growing stronger, as a determined expression crossed his face “And we would be honoured to learn from you, to aid and protect you.” Carlos’s awareness of _him_ was a palpable itch. He wasn’t strong enough to look away from _him_ any longer. He didn’t know why he ever thought it would be possible to resist something that was as subjectively inevitable as gravity.

His eyes met an all too familiar pair of violet ones, flickering up briefly to capture the sight of the third one in the middle of the man’s forehead partially obscured by messy blonde locks of hair. Carlos’s skin burned with the need to reach out, to make substantial contact and empirically prove with all of his senses that the man before him was definitely real.

Cecil stared back at him, his eyes widened, noticing the scrutiny of the scientist’s gaze upon him. The radio host’s cheeks reddened as he fidgeted with his headset. He averted his eyes briefly before looking back up and finding that Carlos was still unable to tear his gaze away.

“I would be honoured to be a part of you.” His voice dipped lower as his words radiated such profound sincerity. He managed to smile shyly at Cecil, a fragile thing of spun glass suspended upon a wire above a glacier under the duress of howling gales.

Cecil’s answering grin was everything.

Carlos couldn’t allow...wouldn’t allow himself to be torn from Night Vale again.

With great mental fortitude, Carlos returned his attention to the rest of the audience, the levels of hostility he had previously noticed had diminished quite drastically. He wished he could have given them a Likert scale style questionnaire prior to the meeting to assess their attitudes before the meeting and after. Carlos took a deep breath, picturing how he would construct said graph and label the axis. The rapid hammering of his heart against his ribcage began to slow.

He had to be careful. Carlos’s desire to look back at Cecil was getting out of hand. Seeing him again was both excruciating and exhilarating.

Whilst he had a unique opportunity to fix things, Carlos couldn’t help but lament that he had found the wrong door. Assuming all doors irrespective of shape and physical property would lead to the same place out of the Desert Otherworld and into the Night Vale he knew was a fallacy built upon inadequate sampling.

It was just a shame that Carlos couldn’t allow himself to become attached this time around.


	2. One door closes, and another one...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ditch is a bit of a dick, Carlos goes to the radio station and sometimes thinks about doors.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, we have flashbacks to the desert otherworld and a brief glimpse of Kevin. Also, we have Cecil.  
> I guess this chapter is slightly more dialogue-heavy than the last, and there are snippets of Cecil's radio show.
> 
> Just so you know, the flashbacks shown in each chapter aren't necessarily in chronological order.

Carlos had become accustomed to the hollow rumbling noise that resonated across the Desert Otherworld, it was as much a part of the desert as the perpetually shifting constellations and the giant masked army he had become acquainted with. His shoes were always filled with sand, irrespective of whether or not he had taken a step out of his worn and shoddily cobbled together tent.

It had been a long time since he last heard Cecil’s voice.

Not that time meant anything here anyway.

Carlos refreshed his boyfriend’s Tumblr blog, willing the image at the top of the screen to change, to update to anything. The image of Lee Marvin's portrait, made entirely of skittles and bloodstones, stared back at him every time. This wasn’t surprising. Carlos had lost track of how many months ago it was since he last received a text from Cecil.

“Tlk 2 u tmrw bunny xoxo.”

Carlos was tired of waiting for tomorrow.

~0~

The radio croaked to life, literally; several small amphibians that may or may not be venomous wriggled out of an invisible seam at the bottom of the radio causing it to teeter and fall into Carlos’s outstretched hands. He didn’t remember consciously reacting to the falling radio; it was if he immediately gravitated to it without thinking. He ran his fingers gently over the smooth golden-toned wood, a nail traced around the dials thoughtfully. He had to place it back on top of the haphazard stack of science journals as the painfully familiar mellifluous voice poured out of it.

_“Jenifer Markus, a member of perfect Carlos’s team of scientists, announced that one of the houses in the new development of Desert Creek, out back of the elementary school, doesn’t actually exist. “It seems like it exists,” she explained, excitedly. “Like it’s just right there when you look at it. And it’s between two other identical houses, so it would make more sense for it to be there than not.”_

This wasn’t the worst thing Cecil said.

_“One of Carlos’s other scientists, the elderly one with the permanent scowl, also reported that there were wild seismic shifts– meaning to say that the ground should be going up and down all over the place.”_

Carlos didn’t think that their University provided a dental plan that would cover the extent of teeth grinding that Ditch was partaking in.

“Do you have anything to say about this, Dr. Ramirez?” Ditch finally ground out. One wayward eyebrow was arched so far up into his hairline he seemed to be at risk of losing it.

“Did you locate the epicentre of these _so-called_ earthquakes?” He inquired, innocently enough, attempting to keep thinly veiled amusement out of his voice. Out of the corner of his eye, Carlos saw Andrew cover his mouth and rapidly turn his head away.

Ditch was visibly shaking now with barely restrained rage. “What did you tell that reporter at the meeting?” A nasty smile crossed his face, “You know as well as I that you weren’t up to leading this team. Do you really think I'll let you undermine _me_?”

“Doctor-“ Carlos, attempted to interrupt. He didn’t need his issues being brought up in front of the peers he wanted to respect him.

Ditch held up a hand. “Just remember who’s in charge here. Next time you see your little _boyfriend_ ,” His voice dripped with disdain, “You can remind him.”

 _Boyfriend._ The word ripped through Carlos’s abdomen savagely. He tried not to focus on Cecil’s ever-present voice, still murmuring gently in the background through the radio speakers.

Ditch placed his hands in his pockets with a self-satisfied look before recoiling abruptly. His large, not unclean palms were teeming with tiny blue translucent spiders. They spilled out of the small tear in the corner of his lab coat pocket and raced up his sleeves, resulting in Ditch jerking wildly and exiting the lab.

“What an asshole,” remarked Mara. Carlos’s head whipped around to take in the ghost, leaning casually against the table with the soil samples. He studiously ignored the miniature eggs she held in her cupped palms. Taking a deep breath, Carlos collapsed onto a stool; the solid uncomfortable feel was grounding, somehow.

“Hey, Carlos. Do you have the time?” Andrew asked after a long drawn out moment of silence. He waved a tarnished silver alarm clock in one hand and a cracked mobile phone in another.

Carlos had more time than anyone could possibly fathom. But that, of course, was not what Andrew was asking.

~0~0~

He didn’t have to do this. He didn’t. Markus cleared her throat noisily. They had reached the Night Vale Community Radio Station with little incident, and yet Carlos had been unable to exit the car for several minutes. At first, Markus had made an attempt to ignore his abnormal behaviour, one magenta tipped nail scrolled across a page displayed on her phone. She occasionally glanced up at him before returning her attention to the screen.

Carlos twisted his hairband between his fingers, looping it as many times as he could around one finger before unravelling the coils and repeating the process with each finger, shorter loops coiled around his nail bitten thumb.

_“I speak in ancient tongues,_

_I stare straight at the sun,_

_what I've done can't be undone.”_

Carlos shuddered. Although he was certain that the weather playing at this moment in time had played once before it felt different somehow. _Context_ , he supposed. He would have first heard the song with naive ears, unaccustomed to chanting around bloodstone circles and a relentless light from a god that wasn’t a god

When the weather ended, Cecil began to talk about the clocks in Night Vale and the mysteriously irregular setting sun. Carlos turned the ignition off, twisting the key firmly, the radio spluttered as if offended and Cecil’s voice continued to pour out unimpeded by the lack of electricity flowing to the radio system in the car. Markus looked up from her phone once again, giving the radio a curious look.

_“Well listeners, that’s three phone calls from the scientific community in one day. We are very lucky indeed to bask in the light of academic pursuit. Although, I can’t help but wonder if we’ll ever hear from a very special scientist, one with magnificent hair. The Sheriff’s Secret Police would like to remind you...”_

Carlos exited the car abruptly; he may have slammed the door a little too hard, going by the way the shrub next to the parking metre jumped. A black-clad arm shot out to steady a precariously tipping mug of coffee. Markus turned to gawp at the poorly concealed figure before Carlos, very deliberately ignoring it, urged Markus to follow him to the station.

“What exactly are we looking for?” Markus asked, pushing her fringe out of her eyes roughly. “I don’t recall Ditch specifying.”

“He didn’t.” Carlos agreed. “I suspect he just wanted to get us out of the lab, after....well...”

Markus snorted, “Surely, he can’t blame you for the spiders.”

Carlos pushed the glass door open, for a building with so many windows the station was surprisingly dingy. The amber clock above the orderly help desk displayed the time ’11:42,’ neither scientist was sure if it meant AM or PM, the oddly fluctuating sky wasn’t any help. A tiny redhead sat at the desk, she appeared to be feeding paperclips into her mouth one after the other. A sticker badge, not unlike the ones given out in primary school designated her name as Christie Arlow.

“What’s wrong with your arms?” An alarmed Markus called out. Christie’s elbows seemed to bend the wrong way as she lifted the paperclips and gripped them between two inverted nails. Her head cocked to the side, regarding Markus with confusion.

Christie’s attention shifted to Carlos, her eyes widened and a large grin crossed her face. “You must be _Carlos_.” She purred his name with an unusually reverent inflection. When she rose to her feet, they both noticed that her knees were also bent the wrong way.

“We’re here to investigate the station for unusual phenomena.” Markus continued, seeing that Christie had dismissed her comment about the arms.

Christie pursed her lips, “Visitors can’t enter the main building without a pass.”

“May I have a pass?” Carlos, asked politely, he was starting to feel unnerved by Christie’s staring.

“Of course, of course.” She murmured to herself. Her fingers hooked backwards as she pulled a drawer open. Christie pulled out a reel of plain white stickers. Sticking her tongue out in concentration she scribbled something on the surface, before peeling the sticker off at attaching it to Carlos’s lab coat. He jumped slightly at the unexpected contact. Peering down he could make out a stick figure with long hair and scratchy letters underneath ‘Carlows the Syentist.’

“Uh, thank you?” It came out as more of a question than a genuine expression of gratitude.

Markus sniggered at his misspelled name and the unflattering image. Turning her nose up at Markus, Christie brought the rest of the stickers up to her mouth and pushed the entire reel in. She gulped loudly and smirked at the younger scientist, “We’re all out of passes, I’m afraid only _Carlos_ can go in.” Carlos really hoped that Christie would grow tired of emphasising his name like that.

Carlos had thought that he could deploy Markus as a distraction so he could collect whatever irrelevant data necessary to appease Ditch, without having to interact with Cecil himself. This was obviously no longer possible. A pale mauve sludge oozed out of the button he pressed on the lift panel. Cecil’s voice was everywhere, it played in the lift and out of the speakers in every corridor. It felt like it was stalking him. An absurd notion, a voice is not a singularly sentient entity with the ability and will to stalk people.

Carlos started to pick at his ‘visitor badge,’ the top right corner was easy to peel away from his lab coat. His fingers paused when he heard a loud thump behind the door next to him. ‘ **Station Management’** , the plaque read. A noise, not dissimilar to a bird’s skull, being caught under the tyre of a car rang out, a dull crunch followed by a wet squelch. Carlos smoothed the sticker back down, no longer attempting to remove it. The sound immediately died down. It looked like he would have to wear the sticker after all.

Carlos brought out his Geiger counter. Like last time the levels of background gamma radiation were abnormal. The beeping increased the closer he got to the recording studio. Surely, that was enough data. He could already prove to Ditch that the radiation levels were dangerously high; he didn’t need to approach the direct source.

Carlos did not believe in fate. He didn’t believe in predetermination. However, he could accept the nature of causation and how replicating a series of events _could_ lead to a similar outcome as before. Not that one prior occurrence is sufficient data for correlation, let alone causation.

Just like last time he had been unable to stop himself creeping forward, from observing Cecil, in his element, through the window. Cecil leaned over his desk, his profile facing Carlos, lavender sleeves were rolled up exposing esoteric tattoos, vines, and patterns intertwining. He rested his elbows on the desk, one hand played with the base of his microphone while the other clutched a glass of orange milk. He released the glass to gesture wildly, motions unseen by his prolific audience. The loquacious radio host’s easy smile faltered a moment; his eyes grew distant and heavy. The third eye in the centre of his forehead flickered before sealing shut, leaving only a smooth expanse of flesh behind. Cecil looked up and locked eyes with Carlos.

Carlos jumped slightly and took a hesitant step backward, and away from the door. It was already too late to pretend he hadn’t seen Cecil. Recognition crossed the radio host’s face as he beamed at him, his face alight with joy. Expert hands fiddled with the switchboard and selected a pre-recorded piece to play. The studio door was pulled open with a sharp jerk.

Cecil seemed to bounce slightly as he made his way over to Carlos; his body jittered with a mixture of nervousness and excitement. Violet eyes hungrily absorbed every detail of the scientist’s face while he remained rooted to the spot. 

Carlos couldn’t move. If he had to choose to spend one place to stand for all eternity then being caught in Cecil’s adoring gaze wouldn’t be the worst place to stand.

He wasn’t allowed to do this. This was a violation of all of his self-imposed rules.

“Carlos!” Cecil greeted, somewhat breathily. His arms fidgeted by their sides as if unsure whether to reach an arm out to shake his hand.

“Ce-Mr Palmer.” Carlos abruptly corrected himself. He hadn’t said Cecil’s name aloud in months, relatively speaking. He managed to tear his eyes away to study Cecil’s shoes, orange sandals with fluorescent pink socks.

Cecil hadn’t missed the near utterance of his name. His expression was a cross between puzzlement and delight when Carlos was brave enough to look back up. “You can call me Cecil.” He announced brightly, coaxingly

Carlos nodded slowly; he twisted his neck around in the vain hope of spotting Markus or some other excuse to leave.

“I’m so happy that you found time to visit us. I’m sure you’re extraordinarily busy with all your science.” Cecil gestured to Carlos’s lab coat. “Are you here for an interview, Carlos?”

Hearing his own name wrapped in Cecil’s warm velvet tones was even more poignant in person. He wanted to scream, to throw himself at Cecil’s feet, to weep and beg Cecil, for what, he wasn’t sure. Forgiveness? He wasn’t sure he was deserving of that, he could beg him to listen and believe him, or maybe he would be better off begging Cecil to run away from him and never look back.

“Ah, no.” He managed, he ran a hand through his hair nervously. Cecil watched the movement with rapt interest. “I’m not really one for public speaking.”

Cecil shot him a fond look, “So modest, you were positively enthralling at the town meeting." Another round of stuttering beeps from his Geiger counter drew Cecil’s attention. “What’s that for?”

_Do not say, testing for materials, do not..._

“I’m um...testing for ma-radiation, I’m testing the radiation levels at the station.” He quickly corrected.

Cecil seemed intrigued, “Really, you’d be better off up by Radon Canyon, but who am I to refuse a visit from our latest and greatest local celebrity.” It baffled Carlos, how Cecil could utter such verbose flattery. His heart hammered hard against his fragile ribcage. It was taking great restraint not to mirror Cecil’s adoring gaze with the level of zeal he wanted.

“I should be g-going.” He stuttered out, “There are earthquakes and clocks to examine. Scientific mysteries t-“

“To be solved or not solved.” Cecil finished, he grinned as he noticed the blush Carlos desperately battled to hide. Carlos didn’t want to think about how _this_ Cecil was already beginning to memorise every little word he spoke. “Yes, one of your team members called in to report the earthquakes. I don’t suppose you could shed some light on that; your colleague was very _vague_.” He said the word _vague_ like it was a substitution for another word. If Cecil was referring to Ditch then Carlos could think of many words Cecil might substitute _vague_ for.

Carlos _didn’t_ want to be here. He _desperately_ wanted to be here. He wanted to be ~~close enough to breathe in Cecil’s scent~~ further away. As a scientist, it was his duty to impart knowledge onto the public, he managed to rationalise, irrationally overwhelmed by his feelings.

“The earthquakes,” he began, “as far as I can tell have several epicentres, dispersed along the borders of Night Vale.” He frowned, “Which is unusual since the town doesn’t lie on any fault lines from the joining of tectonic plates.” He hadn’t managed to discover the cause of the seismic readings and physical apparent lack of earthquakes the last time he was here.

“The borders?” Cecil mused, “Like the hand of a toddler, ramming ill-fitting jigsaw pieces together too vigorously until the surrounding pieces buckle. Perhaps our little town is a piece from a different set.” He seemed almost pleased by this revelation, despite the fact Carlos had likely revealed little more than Ditch had.

“Your sponsorship ad will be ending soon.” Carlos reminded him.

Disappointment flashed across his face. “Are you sure you can’t stay? You could tell us more about the earthquakes. Or science, I like hearing about science.” Cecil insisted.

Cecil was stood so close to him, if he took another two and a half steps forward they would be nose to nose, or more accurately, nose to forehead. “Sorry, I have to get back.” He was sorry, so very sorry.”

Cecil nodded in acknowledgment. “Say hi, to the rest of your team for me. It was nice, hearing so many new voices.”

Carlos, who had turned to walk away, paused. “You know Cecil; I’m not the team leader. That’s Dr. Ditch. I’m just a member of his team.”

Cecil seemed to mull his words over, “Really? That doesn’t seem right.” Cecil’s third eye blinked back into existence, it was positively luminous in comparison to the other two. The radio host looked even more puzzled afterward, his eyes scrutinised Carlos before letting out a soft laugh. “Hierarchy, right? I understand. I learned _all_ about it when I was in the boy scouts.”

Carlos wasn’t sure what the boy scouts had to do with his current position but he nodded anyway. “Goodbye...Cecil.” His voice broke slightly, the ending of his name came out a much higher pitch than intended.

~0~0~0~

_“Dazzlingly, talented Carlos, came into our studios during the break earlier but declined to stay for an interview. He had some sort of blinking box in his hand covered with wires and tubes. Said he was testing the place for “radiation.” As you all know, radiation is a privilege few can afford. We at the Night Vale Community Radio Station are lucky enough to be blessed with the very best, high-quality radiation. But...I don’t like to brag, Night Vale’s Television Studios have nothing on us._

_On another note, the prettiest note, decorated with pink gel pen hearts, Carlos described the earthquakes to me. It was so exhilarating, getting to listen to science close up in the rich oaky tones of this town’s newest scientist. However, listeners, I am afraid there is a grave threat facing our most beloved visitor.”_

Carlos’s attention snapped back to the radio in the car. He had expected Cecil to mention his visit to the station. He had not expected _this_. He was relieved he hadn’t set off yet, he and Markus had to wait for the owner of the twelve blue Hondas to move all of their cars out of the way. It seemed that a Pisces worked at the radio station.

_“There is an imposter; a vile being with influence reaching limits unknown and depths untold. A terrible being, claiming to be the leader of Carlos’s team of scientists. Listeners, while I urge you to be wary of this man, this so-called Doctor Tobias Ditch, I must insist that you see him for what he is. Third generation Night Vale citizen, Mara Reynolds claims that this beast is a jerk and ‘ghostaphobic.’ Well, you heard it here first listeners, for the sake of our dear Carlos I ask you to shun this conniving monster. And for other prestigious listeners in positions of authority, Ditch may or may not have been seen indulging in the highly illicit activity of...jay walking...he crossed the path of a jay before 8 AM. What a menace.”_

Markus started to howl with laughter. “Oh my God, what did you tell him?” Her eyes were bright with mirth. “Ditch is going to kill you.”

“Ditch is going to kill me.” Carlos echoed, hollowly.

~0~0~0~0~

Ditch had been suspiciously absent from the lab. Mara had greeted him with a thumbs up while Andrew stared out of the window, twitchily waiting for Ditch to return.

They hadn’t accomplished much more that day. Discovering that time was more variable here and that earthquakes didn’t work properly was a lot to be getting on with.

As Carlos curled up in his bed, after performing the necessary chants and sweeping away the excess teeth under his pillow, he was exhausted. It had been a long time since Cecil was more than a hazy projection or a voice through a phone. Now he could see Cecil in person he was becoming greedy.

It wasn’t fair for him to do this to Cecil. He had already ruined one relationship with _a_ Cecil; he didn’t need to inflict himself on another one.

Carlos didn’t like to think that his future was inevitable. It was inevitable that an apple thrown in the air would fall back down again. He didn’t want to believe it was inevitable that he would once again end up in the Desert Otherworld, far away from Cecil with no way to return but rejoin an endless loop of meeting and parting.

~0~0~0~0~0~

Carlos thought he should be used to the heat by now. This wasn’t the first desert he had lived in after all. It sapped his strength like a great leech, taking languid sips from a reservoir that was drying up rapidly.

He had been quite excited actually. After carefully documenting the constellations in the night sky, evening after evening, he’d been able to determine a pattern. Whilst it was not necessarily useful information, it was scientifically interesting. He couldn’t wait to tell Kevin about it. The previous resident of Desert Bluffs was always delighted by Carlos’s ingenuity and drive to discover. 

It was difficult to share his discoveries with Cecil these days. It wasn’t like he wasn’t trying to get home. It was just better to occupy his mind with something, anything than to sit around being helpless.

Then he saw it, in the distance. A solid brown archway. 

A door.

Carlos’s pace quickened upon his approach, his feet slammed into the sand with such force he was sure each leg could drive through to bedrock. As he grew closer to the open door, he noticed a figure stood in front of it. He was rather adept at recognising his desert companion, given his resemblance to his boyfriend. Carlos was about to call out Kevin’s name from behind him when all of a sudden Kevin’s arm shot out to grip the handle of the door tightly. The rusty brass handle screeched as he twisted his grip on it before slamming the door shut with as much force as he could muster.

Carlos’s mouth fell open in horror.

Kevin made a sound of alarm as Carlos shoved him out of the way, he tightened his grip on the door handle, trying to wrench it open to no avail. The newly sealed door shuddered and let out a low groan, the air rippled around it as it vanished before them, as if it had been a mirage all along.

Carlos’s stomach twisted, he felt nauseated. He had been so close to getting home, to getting back to Cecil. Carlos found it difficult to concentrate, his head felt too light and his legs too weak to hold him up. Betrayed eyes turned to the ground where Kevin was sprawled out after Carlos had shoved him out of the way.

Kevin pouted briefly, before brushing sand out of his ragged mop of blonde curls. Obsidian eyes glittered with interest as he peered up at Carlos. A warm enraptured smile lit up the double’s face. “Ah, Carlos. You’re back early.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lmao, what are you doing Kevin?  
> Someone should hug Carlos.
> 
> How do you write Cecil? It's so hard!!
> 
> Who thinks Ditch will be the next Telly?


	3. Is it really a promotion if you had the same job in a previous time line?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ALL HAIL THE GLOW CLOUD MORTALS!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We have a desert flashback and a flashback to Carlos's return to the University before setting off for Night Vale for the second time.

“Once, there was a Smiling God.” Kevin started. The campfire flames flicked and cast ominous shadows behind him as he spoke. “The Smiling God was a benevolent God, a vast consuming, hungry God.” Kevin’s smile widened and his dark eyes took on a hazy daydream like quality. “Such a curious God, they wanted to devour everything, to make everything a part of itself.”

Carlos shuddered from his slumped position, half-hidden under the blankets which were similar in texture to potato sacks. Alicia tilted their great head, their expression inscrutable under the mask of feathers and warm meat; their companions made similar motions. Carlos’s mind was as alert as ever, he was keen to understand the mystery of the seemingly malicious God that had tried to take over Night Vale.

“The Smiling God knew all that there was to know about their little realm, so far away from any other. They wanted to know a great many more things about the happy little town it saw in its dreams.” The sweet cadence of Kevin’s voice was akin to a zealous parent, enthusiastically telling a bedtime story of fairy tales to their child. “And they were happy to help the Smiling God that visited them in their dreams, they smiled too.” Kevin’s lips stretched obscenely wide.

The desert air was surprisingly warm considering the time of night, and yet Carlos couldn’t help but move closer to the fire to ward off the chill spreading down his spine. In the distance, there was the sound of rumbling, one he had quickly become accustomed to.

“The Smiling God fed on the woes of the little town, who grew happier still. Until one day, the little town wanted to pay the Smiling God back for all its help.” There was a frightening amount of passion in Kevin’s eyes as he recounted the tale. “They held a festival, The Great Awakening.” The title rolling off of the Radio Host’s tongue was full of power. “For what better way to reward their sleepy, Smiling God than to awaken it, after all, their God did value productivity.”

Kevin beamed at Carlos who stared back at him transfixed. There was something unnerving about Kevin’s tale. From what he had seen of this so-called ‘Smiling God’ they appeared to be some kind of consuming light that originated from this very desert; they were an entity so closely aligned with Strex Corp he wasn’t sure if the Smiling God ran Strex Corp or if they were just worshipped by it. Kevin painted the Smiling God as curious and caring, a strange dichotomy at odds with Carlos’s idea of relentless devouring and consuming. The light continued to illuminate Kevin’s haunting grin, a grin that made Carlos’s skin itch like it was covered with thousands of baby wolf spiders.

Then all at once, the flames died. 

Not the quiet death of a flame, leaving behind the memory of itself in hazy smoke and dying embers. One minute there was fire, the next there was not. The previously charred wood was cool to the touch and unblemished by the fire’s merciless heat.

Kevin’s story came to an abrupt stop before it had really begun.

~0~

_“Apparently the cloud glows in a variety of colours, perhaps changing from observer to observer, although all report a low whistling when it draws near.”_

_The Glow Cloud._ Carlos was fairly relaxed, for once. There were many things in Night Vale that qualified as a threat. For all its power and awe-inspiring abilities, the Glow Cloud didn’t pose an active threat to Night Vale. It hadn’t even begun to drop dead animals yet.

The scientists had abandoned their cars at the edge of the invisible cornfield, the closest vehicle was an ancient green tractor, porcupines the size of buffalos were harnessed to the front of the vehicle. The tractor was pulled along at a sedate pace, despite the fact that the windows were shut tightly in the tractor, Cecil’s voice from the radio inside was still clearly audible to everyone.

Carlos squinted at the passing tractor suspiciously before sighing. He hadn’t exactly given up on understanding the bizarreness of Cecil, not exactly. He had simply acknowledged it was a part of him, in the same way, the rest of the town was science defying and a mockery to logic. It often lead to small oversights on his part, like how the hell could he always hear Cecil’s voice when he was on the radio, even when there didn’t seem to be a radio physically present.

“Are those porcupines?” Andrew asked aloud, seemingly not looking for confirmation either way. “How did they get so big? This kind of adaptation in a desert environment....” He trailed off. Carlos nodded distractedly and looked back up at the Glow Cloud.

Cecil had claimed that different people could see a range of colours in its vast amorphous shape. A range of violet hues, bleeding into indigo and puce radiated out from its curling folds.

Carlos continued gazing at it a while longer, last time he had seen the Glow Cloud it had displayed gold and crimson. He tried to puzzle over whether a change in his behaviour resulted in the difference in colour or if it was simply his altered perception that resulted in him experiencing the colours differently this time around.

~0~0~

Carlos finished applying red paint to the edges of the map of Night Vale. There were two interesting things about this statement. One, why was Carlos using paint? And two, how did a map of Night Vale exist? Carlos attempted to explain these things to a befuddled Jenifer Markus. The rest of the team were not happy with the ban on writing implements. Carlos was fairly confident that a paintbrush counted as a sort of distant cousin to the pen, the kind that you vaguely acknowledge as related but don’t invite to family dinner. Besides, he was painting lines on a map, not representing information as words or abstract symbols. The slash of what he assumed to be red paint on his window at four o’clock in the morning Carlos preferred to interpret as approval, rather than that he was on thin ice.

Mapping the boundaries of Night Vale, where the earthquakes seemed to originate wasn’t difficult. The map itself was more difficult to interpret. There were landmarks scattered here and there but no clear roads marked on that joined one to the next. In fact, the more you concentrated on an area of the map the further it seemed to be from other landmarks. Carlos swore when he turned his back on the map and looked at it again the Fire Department and the Cinema had swapped positions.

The only thing stable about the map seemed to be the boundaries. It was interesting to ponder whether the boundaries were a concrete area of Night Vale because of the earthquakes or whether there could only be recordable signs, minimal as they were, from the boundaries since the edges were stable in a way the rest of the town was not.

Carlos made a sound of frustration; he had lived in Night Vale for two years before his unexpectedly extended stay in the Desert Otherworld. In all of that time, there were few solid hypotheses he could create based on his observations of the town. Whatever phenomena he happened to investigate seemed to immediately change either its properties or behaviour as soon as he believed he had any grasp on it at all.

 _What was the point in studying the same things again?_ Well, it’s not like he arrived at any answers the first time.

The lab door opened almost silently. At least Carlos assumed it had, he hadn’t noticed the entrance of the additional inhabitant to the lab until they addressed him.

“Carlos.” Dr. Ditch acknowledged him in a gruff voice with a short nod. This was enough to make Carlos blink. Ditch had never been on the friendly side, he didn’t think he’d ever heard his first name in Ditch’s grating voice before. There was something glassy about those watery blue eyes, they were fixed straight ahead where he was standing but didn’t seem to be focused on him.

“Doctor.” Carlos nodded back politely, “We were worried, where have you been?”

Ditch continued to stare ahead blankly for a long moment. “I was busy doing science.” He delivered the line in a flat monotone voice. Carlos himself had spoken that line before about Ditch during the town meeting with a comedic bordering on awkward flare. Ditch shuffled to the other end of the room and started to pull out beakers from the drawer with the wonky handle.

Mara wandered over to Ditch, placing a hand on his shoulder in a friendly manner, the man jolted violently, heavy eyebrows were swept upwards in an expression of fright. “Mara.” He nodded once again in the stiff manner he had greeted Carlos.

Markus gave him a cagey look, “So, now you’re back what do you want us to focus our research on. Carlos found some interesting readings back at the radi-”

Ditch’s head turned slowly, his hollow eyes fixed on Carlos’s approximate location. “That is a decision best made by Carlos. After all, he is our leader.”

“What?” Carlos managed to choke out. His heartbeat thrummed rapidly as he stared at Ditch in disbelief.

“Sir, are you feeling well?” Andrew asked, the biologist didn’t seem too well himself as his eyes darted from Ditch back to his work, a permanent frown creasing his freckled forehead.

Ditch continued to set up a Bunsen burner. “I am fine.” He stated. A beaker of water started to boil on top of the tripod fixed above the flame. The doctor stared at the bubbling water more intently than he had focused on anyone in the lab. “Carlos is a fine and competent leader, I wish to assist him however I can.” He didn’t even flinch when the water started to spit out and land on his ungloved hands.

Andrew took Ditch away, casting odd looks at Carlos as he pulled the doctor in the direction of the accommodations.

“What the hell was that?” Markus asked in a hushed whisper.

Mara shrugged nonchalantly, “Oh you know, just the adjustment to re-education, he’ll be as right as a raging inferno in no time.”

“Re-education.” Markus echoed weakly, “What did he do?”

Carlos already had a horrible suspicion.

Mara pulled herself up onto the desk, her luminous body phased through several test tubes but seemed to balance on the tabletop in a stable enough manner. “You do listen to the radio don’t you?”

Markus’s face clouded with confusion. “You mean jay-walking? I thought that was just a joke.”

“Jay-walking is a serious crime.” Mara enunciated each word clearly and louder than strictly necessary. "Besides, he kept telling lies."

“What lies?” Carlos managed to ask.

“Oh, you know, that he was the leader. We all know that Carlos is the real leader.”

Markus shook her head. “No, he isn’t, the radio host just thought he was.”

“Carlos has always been the leader.” Mara insisted firmly in a voice that suggested she wanted to end Markus’s line of inquiry. “The Voice of Night Vale said so.”

“Are you hearing this?” Markus gestured at Mara wildly while gazing at Carlos. “Since when were you in charge?”

“I-I don’t-” Carlos didn’t know what to say. He could hardly publically argue with a decision that seemed to be endorsed well enough by the Sheriff’s Secret Police. Well did he remember the ostracism of Telly the Barber, at least Ditch seemed mostly intact.

“I heard it on the radio, so it must be true.” Mara proclaimed in a voice that several squads of government agents would be able to hear from three blocks away.

~0~0~0~

“You are aware of why I can’t give you the job.”

“Please, you don’t understand! It is imperative that I go to Night Vale.” Carlos insisted, fervently.

Dr. Kayali raised an eyebrow, her lips pursed thoughtfully. “After your....outburst last Wednesday, you’re aware of why my hands are tied.”

His supervisor’s room was much too cramped, every wall was filled with buckling bookshelves, the lamp next to Dr. Kayali cast a strange greenish glow around the dimly lit room. Carlos’s eyes flickered to the door behind him, held open by the small wedge of wood on the floor.

“I was...stressed.” The word did not encompass the entirety of all of the emotions he had been feeling up to that point. “I’m much better now.”

“You know the board won’t accept my decision to appoint you as head scientist of the expedition group.” Kayali did indeed look sympathetic but there was a hint of wariness as well as she regarded him; her chair was pulled back from the desk as far as it could go without looking ridiculous, she had to lean forward to the extent of practically falling out of her chair to reach her cup of coffee.

“Silvia, you know me. I’ve been a member of the faculty here for years.” He tried to keep the note of pleading out of his voice.

Kayali massaged the bridge of her nose and adjusted her horn-rimmed glasses. “Those things you drew...Carlos, those aren’t the actions of a sane man...it was all over the lecture hall...how did you even manage to buy that much paint?”

“We agreed we’d put that behind us,” Carlos replied, firmly.

“You can still go to Night Vale.” Carlos let out a breath of relief, hope flooded through him leaving him weak, his arms curled around his chest. “But you will be assisting Dr. Ditch.”

Carlos’s eyes refocused on her hazily, worry started to gnaw at him once more. “The head physicist...I thought he was working on the...other project.”

“Priorities have changed.” She gave him a flinty look.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. It’s different; I’m not sure what would happen.” He rambled to himself, “He’s never been to Night Vale, he’s not supposed...what if that changes...what would _he_ do...” This was wrong, completely wrong, things weren’t supposed to go this way at all.

Kayali shook her head sadly, “I am only giving you the chance to accompany Dr. Ditch because I consider you a friend. After what you did I had to pull a number of strings.”

Carlos laughed harshly, “I would think that the University would be glad to be rid of me, after the _incident_.”

“Carlos.” She said slowly, “You flinch at loud noises...what you did to the lecture hall is beyond vandalism, beyond a sick joke. You won’t even let me close the damn door so we can have a private discussion. Will you please just close it!”

“No!” He responded sharply, he jumped to his feet, backing away from the desk to the wide, open door frame, he could see students hurrying past and casting furtive looks at them.

“And you wonder why I can’t let you lead the team.”

~0~0~0~0~

_“This is probably nothing listeners, but John Peters – you know, the farmer – he reports that the Glow Cloud is directly over Old Town Night Vale, and appears to be raining small creatures upon the earth. Armadillos, lizards, a few crows, that kind of thing.”_

Andrew had returned wide-eyed about half an hour ago, he was clutching an eagle’s corpse and muttering to himself while running tests. “This doesn’t even make any sense. There is no cause of death, no injury, no poisoning, not old age. It’s like they just stopped living.”

“Or maybe they were never alive, to begin with,” Mara added helpfully.

Andrew shook his head furiously, “No of course not, I’d estimate that it was five years old, hardly a stillborn.”

“We’re going to need stronger umbrellas,” Carlos said to himself, more so than to anyone else in the room.

 _“Just bring along a good strong umbrella capable of handling falling animals up to, say, ten pounds.”_ Cecil’s voice continued, undisturbed by this turn of events.

Markus’s eyes widened as she looked between Carlos and the radio, “Freaky.”

“It’s not that difficult a conclusion to come to.” Mara sniffed.

“So...Boss...what do we do next?” His immediate reaction was to check around the room for Ditch before realising it was him being addressed by Markus.

There was an unnerving silence throughout the lab, by now the whole team was aware of Carlos’s impromptu promotion. Carlos was alarmed. He had been against Ditch being assigned to the research group when he hadn’t been part of it the first time, and it had set Carlos on edge. How was he supposed to monitor the effects of the subtle changes he was attempting to make with an added variable thrown in the mix?

It felt oddly like this was the result of the world attempting to right itself.

Carlos was the leader, just like he had been once before-how he would have been this time around if he hadn’t have had that _incident_.

This didn’t bode well for Carlos. He rather hoped that this was a mixture of Cecil’s predictable protectivity, the overreaction of the Sheriff’s Secret Police and sheer luck; as opposed to the inevitability of him being the leader.

Carlos rather hoped to avoid inevitable outcomes, especially ones involving Desert Otherworlds.

“We all have our own projects to work on.” He shrugged, “As long as you document your area of interest thoroughly and don’t infringe on any of the laws here you can do whatever you want.”

Andrew nodded, the last time Markus protested the promotion the walls started to leak maple syrup. “I’ll keep an eye on him.” He jerked his head in the direction of Ditch who was once again staring blankly at boiling water.

“Maybe we’ll introduce him to a kettle,” Markus added wryly.

Carlos nodded and headed for the door.

“Off to the station again?” Mara called out, she smiled at him slyly. “I’m sure Cecil will be happy to help out the scientific community with any of its plights again, boss.” She said the last word with a note of humour as if they were both part of an inside joke.

~0~0~0~0~0~

“Hey there,” Carlos whispered quietly. He could already feel his eyes beginning to water, even if he had forgotten the Claritin he had remembered the reinforced gloves this time.

A deep rumble resonated from across the room, the bulb overhead flickered red for a moment and a short burst of water gurgled out of the tarnished tap.

As he approached the small figure hovering four feet off the floor next to the sink Carlos raised his arms above his head, he crossed his arms where they met at the elbow and tilted his head skyward, as is customary when approaching a cat one is not acquainted with. As he came to a stop in front of the cat he crossed his eyes as well, his sight blurred in spite of his glasses.

The deep guttural growl like meat caught in a food processor whilst still in its metal can came out softer this time. The cat lowered his head, exposing the slick cornflower blue spine ridges poking out from amethyst fur.

The scientist reached out a hand cautiously, hesitating when the cat raised its head again, only to find he the cat was rubbing their face against his gloved hand affectionately. The purrs took on a slightly more musical quality like someone playing a trombone full of cogs and screws. Several tongues uncoiled from its belly to lap at his cloth-covered fingers.

The light above flickered to purple, Carlos continued to pet the cat, he smiled slightly at the sight of the food bowl balanced on the edge of the sink. He wondered if the metal shavings mixed with the meat contributed to the sounds the cat made in any way.

“It’s nice to meet you Khoshekh.” He murmured, feeling oddly soothed by the cat's rumbling. “It’s nice to meet so many people here.”

“Khoshekh?” asked, the warm honey-toned voice.

Carlos jumped, he’d forgotten he’d left the bathroom door open. Cecil watched the two of them with a warm smile. “Cecil.” He greeted quietly, each time he could address him thusly face to face was an undeserved blessing.

The radio host gave an odd shiver when Carlos spoke his name, his eyes fixed briefly on Khoshekh before returning to the scientist. “Khoshekh is a lovely name.”

Feeling flustered he moved away from Khoshekh, the cat made a grating noise of protest, butting his head against Carlos’s hand, he had to withdraw it carefully in fear that the elongated spines might pierce the gloves. “Ah well, I-I just-”

Cecil moved closer, “I didn’t think to bring gloves with me to work today. I normally have them with me, but since the last municipally mandated pine-tree-bake-sale they’ve been beyond repair.” He lamented.

Carlos peeled the gloves off and silently handed them to Cecil. “Oh, I couldn’t.” His face flushed slightly, “That’s really very kind of you Carlos, to share your ritual gloves with me.” He put them on anyway, daintily slipping each one on slowly and flexing each hand inside them. Some unscientifically romantic part of Carlos wanted to categorise this as indirect handholding before chiding himself viciously.

Cecil ran his fingers through Khoshekh’s developing spine ridges still damp and glistening, he let out a delighted squeal when the cat resumed purring. It reminded Carlos of the six and a half week anniversary present he gave to Cecil, a CD containing a range of sounds produced by Khoshekh, categorised from most frequently heard to least. He watched them silently remembering a world he was no longer a part of.

“Khoshekh,” Cecil said again, he grinned at Carlos. “It feels right, you know. Like that’s his name.” He paused, “Then again, I can’t imagine myself being called anything other than Cecil and you being called Carlos.”

“Our names don’t define us.” Carlos managed to string together two poorly operating brain cells, being around Cecil made him dizzy. “It’s more about our actions, what we do and don’t do, that which may be done and will never be done again.”

Cecil’s nose scrunched up in the adorable way it often did when he was thinking deeply about something. “Even if you do or don’t do something you are still Carlos in more than name.”

The odd solemnity of his response made Carlos gulp. It was eerie how Cecil could know so much about that which he consciously knew so little.

“Anyway.” The light burned violet once more, brighter than before. “I had no idea you were going to visit the station today!” The high pitch ring of Cecil’s voice was a far cry from the calm deep tones he used on the radio; Carlos was disgustingly smitten with every nuance of Cecil’s voice.

Cecil gave one last farewell pat to Khoshekh before peeling off the gloves and reverently placing them back in Carlos’s hands. Aware that they had been stood in a cramped bathroom for a good ten minutes they stepped into the corridor.

A small lobster scuttled out from underneath Station Management’s door before a violently crimson tendril much like a vine shot out to drag it back under the door.

He was supposed to be minimising his contact with Cecil, keeping him safe, not pursuing more opportunities to spend time with him.

“You are very good with names,” Cecil commented off hand as they ended up in front of the door to his recording booth. “You knew my name before I introduced myself.”

Normally, such a revelation would induce panic in Carlos. However, this was Night Vale where the majority of things could be explained adequately with a shaky hand gesture and the phrase ‘you know how it is.’

“I’m a scientist.” That answer was always a safe bet.

Cecil nodded, his thoughtful expression turned soft around the edges as he looked at Carlos with such aching fondness that it physically hurt not to reciprocate. “Do all scientists promise to ‘aid and protect’ little towns?”

“This one does.” He answered with conviction.

Cecil laughed quietly, he seemed to always be moving, shifting his weight from leg to leg and fluttering his hands expressively when talking. “I think Night Vale has taken quite well to its new scientist.”

“It didn’t like Dr. Ditch.” It lacked the heat of an accusation but the message was clear.

“No, it didn’t.” He shot Carlos an amused look.

“Jay-walking?”

“A serious crime.” The mock severity of Cecil’s expression was almost comical.

All at once the levity of the situation faded. Cecil’s third eye snapped open, the iridescent glow was dazzling. “I must report,” His speech came out oddly stilted, “The Glow Cloud must be acknowledged.”

Carlos glanced around wildly, the windows in the corridor leading up to the recording booth were too small to get a good look at what was going on outside. Irrespective of the underwhelming view presented by the windows, Carlos could clearly see flashes of light from all positions on the spectrum flooding across the street below and leaking through the window. He had been too caught up with talking to Cecil to notice that the Glow Cloud was now likely directly overhead, swelling to an alarming magnitude.

Cecil took a deep shuddering breath. His rolled-up sleeves exposing the intricate tattoos lit up with a similar resonating light. The colours flashed under his skin like a mood light, like the Glow Cloud itself. Cecil adjusted his headset with one sharp motion; he pressed the button on the stem of the headset’s microphone.

“All hail the Glow Cloud.” He intoned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just what did Carlos do when he got back from the desert?  
> Kevin's fun campfire storytime


End file.
